The Holiday
by digitalfletch
Summary: An alternative ending to 'The Hand of Fear', predicated on the idea that the Doctor is not called back to Gallifrey at the end of episode four


Author's Note: The dialogue in the first scene is from 'The Hand of Fear', written by Bob Baker and Dave Martin – the rest can only be blamed on me…

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The TARDIS dipped and eddied in the vortex, jostling its two passengers back and forth. Sarah braced herself against the railing that ringed the console. She was still huddled in the Doctor's coat, trying to warm herself after their long trek back through the Kastrian wastelands to the TARDIS.

The Doctor hunched over the controls. "Whoa - easy, old girl. Easy," he said soothingly to the console, as though trying to calm a skittish horse. "These temperatures must have affected her thermal couplings."

"Yes, I know how she feels," Sarah said with a shiver. She rubbed her icy hands together briskly in an attempt to restore the circulation. "I think Kastria must be the coldest planet in the galaxy."

"Oh, rubbish!" the Doctor replied disparagingly. "I've been to much colder places." He knelt and opened one of the wooden panels beneath the console, revealing the interior workings of the time ship.

"Oh, big deal," Sarah retorted with some asperity. "It's alright for you. I'm human. We're not so thick-skinned."

"Where's that astro-rectifier?" the Doctor called, reaching a hand towards her. Or rather, towards the tools that she was wearing inside his coat. He crouched down and peered into the opening he had made. "What did you say?"

"Thick...skinned," she repeated with exaggerated emphasis, walking around the console to kneel by his side. She couldn't begin to understand how he could be so completely unperturbed by the icy cold of the Kastrian winds, not to mention by Eldrad's monstrous deception and betrayal of his own people.

"Oh. Good, good," the Doctor replied vaguely. He lay flat on his back, and his head had disappeared entirely into the pillar that supported the console.

She pulled the tool from a voluminous pocket in the Doctor's coat. "Here."

"Multi-quartiscope." A long arm snaked out from under the console, and Sarah slapped the object into it with a sigh.

"You know, I might as well be talking to the moon," she complained. "You don't even listen to me!" _Honestly_. Sometimes he could be the most thoughtful, attentive being in the entire universe. At other times, he seemed unaware of her very existence even when she was standing right there.

"Mergen nut," the Doctor called, his voice muffled from within the console housing.

"What?"

"No, no. Forget the mergen nut. I'll have the ganomeed driver."

"There," Sarah dumped the tool into his outstretched hand.

"Thank you," the Doctor said absently, still intent on his repairs.

"Ooh, I must be mad!" she exclaimed in increasing irritation. She leaned her head back against the console, overcome with a sudden feeling of weariness and an intense craving for _normalcy_. "I'm sick of being cold and wet, and hypnotized left, right and center. I'm sick of being shot at, savaged by bug-eyed monsters, never knowing if I'm coming, or going, or _being_."

"Zeus plug!" the Doctor demanded, seemingly oblivious to her litany of ills.

"Ooh." Sarah moaned. "I want a bath. I want my hair washed. I – I just want to feel human again." _Human, indeed. Maybe if I had thermal couplings he'd pay a bit more attention to me,_ she thought sourly. She resented being taken for granted, just because she was neither a temperamental time ship nor an exotic, beautiful blue silicon creature.

The Doctor stuck his head out of the pillar and tapped her on the arm. But instead of the expression of understanding and sympathy that she anticipated – and, after all, was the least that she deserved – he said, "Forget the Zeus plug, I'll have the sonic screwdriver."

"Oh, and boy am I sick of that sonic screwdriver." _How could he be so oblivious?_ Was it too much to ask for a little sympathy, some recognition that she might need a little time to recover from what had been – by any standards – a fairly traumatic day. She drew a deep breath. "I'm going to pack my goodies and I'm going home," she threatened with a petulant note in her voice. _There. That should get his attention._

She waited expectantly, but there was no reply. Nothing.

"I said," she repeated, now thoroughly exasperated, "I'm going to pack my goodies, and …I am going ..._home_!"

Except for the whistle of the sonic screwdriver, there was silence.

That tore it. "Right! Excuse me!" Sarah exploded. She wasn't going to hang about here with someone who clearly didn't even want her around. Quivering with frustration, she stepped across the Doctor's prone body and stomped off to her room.

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In the midst of disjointed packing, Sarah felt the TARDIS materialize. Earth. Croydon. She was going home.

She moved on autopilot...stunned. She couldn't believe this was actually happening. She was furious with herself for precipitating the crisis – although for a few moments there, back in the console room, the thought of going home had been rather appealing. Feeling the warmth of the midsummer sun, rather than the bitter chill of frozen wastelands – hearing the crunch of sand under one's feet, instead of the bones of dead Kastrians…

This wasn't the first time she'd toyed with the idea of returning to her life back on Earth, and in fact she had once teasingly threatened the Doctor that she would get a lift back to London by cab. But of course she never did. Not when, somehow, she always felt she was of use to him, that she was helping him in some small way. Even if it was merely holding on to one end of his scarf in order to trip Eldrad into the abyss.

She'd thought the Doctor felt the same way. When she'd threatened to walk away back in the console room, she'd expected – assumed – he would urge her to stay.

Evidently, she'd been wrong. Evidently, she was nothing more to him than a glorified surgical nurse, handing instruments to the Great Physician while he operated on his precious patient. Scalpel…suction…sonic screwdriver…

But he didn't need her for that – he could get anyone. _Oh_ The obviousness of it hit her like a ton of bricks. He didn't need her. No wonder he had been so oblivious to her threats to leave.

_He doesn't need me_, her mind repeated over and over again. The thought was almost too painful to bear. Heartsick, she shrugged out of the Doctor's coat and gently laid it on her bed, then snapped her suitcase shut.

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Sarah re-entered into the console room, arms full of her sundry belongings. The Doctor stood near the controls with his back to her. She cleared her throat loudly to attract his attention.

"Everything's packed – I'm ready to go," she announced, trying hard to keep a tremor from her voice.

He said nothing, just stood looking down at the console as though he had turned to stone. Her heart plummeted. He really wasn't going to stop her…

Almost in a trance she reached the door lever, opposite where the Doctor stood. This wasn't happening. After all their time together, the Time Lord that she had befriended, traveled with, fought beside, and more than once grieved over, was letting her walk away without a word.

She pulled the lever and the doors opened with a sickening note of finality. A lump the size of a football had lodged in her throat, and her suitcase felt like it was weighted down with stones. Unwillingly, her feet dragged themselves towards the threshold.

Would he even say goodbye? She felt the salt of tears pricking her eyelashes.

A foot from the door, her hyper-alert senses detected the faintest sound behind her. A slight cough. She turned quickly, hoping against hope…

The Doctor was looking at her out of the corner of one eye, his face half-hidden behind his scarf. "If you go, Sarah, who will there be to tease me?" he said very softly. "Hmm? Who will watch my back?"

Slowly, gingerly, Sarah set down her suitcase.

"I'm sorry, Doctor," she said quietly. "I didn't mean to be so childish. It's just that -" _Hang on a minute_, she thought, _why am I apologizing? It's not me who's in the wrong_.

The Doctor seemed to have reached that realization as well. "It's I who should apologize, Sarah," he replied, his expression sincere but touched with a hint of sadness. "But after everything you've been through recently, I can hardly blame you for wanting to go home."

Sarah felt as though the ground had suddenly shifted beneath her feet. Was he saying what she thought he was? "You mean, you don't want me to leave?"

He shook his head, looking at her steadily.

"But, then – why didn't you just say…" Understanding dawned. He hadn't recognized her tantrum for what it was – a plea for sympathy, for reassurance. He had thought she really did want to leave, that recent events had pushed her beyond her ability to cope. And he didn't want her to go. Then - his lack of response, his seeming indifference to her earlier had not been from apathy…but rather from denial. He didn't want her to go, but he also didn't want to say anything that would make her stay out of a sense of obligation, or guilt. So, like a hurt child, he tried to simply wish the problem away by pretending it didn't exist. Sarah sighed, all her annoyance and exasperation bleeding away as she processed his recent actions in this new light. It certainly wouldn't be the first time he had acted just as childishly as she. And look where it had nearly got them both.

She knew she had to put a stop to this, to clear up the misunderstanding now. She drew close to him, looking up to his full height.

"Doctor – I was only joking, honestly. I don't want to leave," she said insistently, stressing every word. "I want to stay here, to help. But I want to be listened to, to…to have my needs respected. I'm not a Time Lord, you know. I need a _rest_ every once in a while."

"A holiday, yes," he exclaimed, snapping his fingers. "Excellent idea!"

"What?" Sarah said faintly, not sure she had heard him correctly.

"What sort of holiday would you like? Art, music, culture? The great outdoors? Hmmm? Just name it, Sarah – a beach, a desert, a mountaintop, a steaming lava cauldron? – and it shall be yours."

Sarah stared up into the Doctor's animated face. He was certainly listening to her now, his head tilted to one side, his whole attitude one of eager anticipation. Maybe he really meant it. She pondered the offer. A number of those options sounded attractive – the lava cauldron most definitely not included. She wasn't sure he was serious about that, but knowing the Doctor he probably was. "A…a lake," she decided finally. "Someplace warm. Preferably in a forest. And no people," she added defiantly, almost daring him to let her down.

But instead his face lit up in a wide grin. "And how about a waterfall, as well?" he asked, his eyes dancing.

"That would be lovely," she replied, meaning it. Her heart soared. She was staying. He wanted her to stay. She felt light-headed, giddy with relief.

"I know just the place," he pronounced, suddenly springing into action. Nobs were twisted and switches thrown, and within seconds the time rotor began to rise and fall gently as they dematerialized.

"Where are we going?" Sarah asked. Curiosity consumed her. Was he really going to take her on a holiday?

"The second moon orbiting planet XJ35096, in the Aldeberon System," the Doctor informed her, sounding enormously pleased with himself.

"Ooh, sounds very idyllic," she said tartly, gingerly testing out what he'd said just now, about her teasing him. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined her teasing might be something that he would actually miss.

Happily, he was unperturbed. "Just you wait."

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They stepped out of the TARDIS into bright sunshine, the Doctor carrying an umbrella stand tucked under one arm and a deck chair under the other. Sarah, following close behind, saw nothing for a moment but broad shoulders and canvas until her companion stood aside, waving her forward.

Sarah sucked in her breath. "Wow!" she exclaimed. There was a lake, all right. A beautiful, tranquil, idyllic lake. Tall rocky outcroppings abutted the water to their left and ahead, and an endless forest stretched off in all directions as far as the eye could see. And off to the right, around a slight bend, was the promised waterfall. Sarah was delighted. If the water was warm, it would be everything she dreamed. She ran lightly down the shore then stopped abruptly, looking back at the Doctor.

"It's – green!"

"Actually, the water is colorless," the Doctor corrected, dropping the various bits of furniture and moving to join her by the water's edge. "It's the stones along the bottom that are green, the light refracted through the water producing the optical illusion."

"All right, all right," Sarah protested. "Suck all the fun out of it, will you."

"Never," he said, for a moment unnervingly solemn. She hated when he did that, switching moods like he was turning on and off a light. It exhausted her, trying to keep up with him. Sometimes he was just so _alien_.

She wondered abruptly if perhaps he found her emotional states just as complicated, and as confusing. She considered asking him but the question died on her lips. He'd brought her here for a holiday, not an inquisition. And right now she didn't want to do anything that might upset the fragile détente between them.

Impulsively she put a hand on his arm. "It's wonderful," she assured him, and was rewarded with a quick grin.

"In you get," he said, and she hastened to pull off her shirt and slacks. Back in her room she had deliberated over whether or not to put on a swimming costume under her clothes, not at all certain the Doctor would be either willing or able to fulfill his promise. She was glad now she had taken the leap of faith.

She stepped cautiously forward into the water. It _was_ warm. It was warm and tingly and curiously buoyant, lighter even than seawater. She plunged in up to her neck then dove under, knifing through the pure greenish light and holding her breath as long as she could before surfacing, laughing with delight.

The Doctor was watching her from the shore. "Aren't you coming in?" she called.

"No," he said, thrusting his hands into his pockets. "This lake is full of giant gamorras. I have no desire to be swallowed whole by a man-eating fish!"

"What?!" For an instant Sarah panicked, then realized he was joking. "Ooah, I'll get you for that!"

Diving again, she swam underwater toward the shore until her knees touched stone. Breaking the surface, she playfully showered the Doctor with water.

"Hey!" he protested. "That's my best coat you're dousing!"

Retreating out of reach of her splashes, the Doctor gathered up the deck chair and umbrella stand and sauntered off down the shoreline.

"Where are you going?" Sarah called.

"Fishing!" he shouted over his shoulder.

She watched as he strode along the shore toward the deeper part of the lake, staring into the water now and again until he settled on a suitable spot. How he could resist the lure of a swim in these warm, magical waters was beyond her. Shaking her head she paddled slowly toward the waterfall, careful not to send ripples in the Doctor's direction that might alarm his fishy prey.

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The afternoon, for so it seemed to be on the second moon of planet X-whatever-it-was in the Aldeberon System, passed idyllically for Sarah. She spent most of her time in and around the waterfall, swimming, diving, playing and simply _being_. It felt marvelous. Finally, though, her rumbling stomach got the better of her and she stroked back across the lake to where she'd left her clothes.

As she eased out of the water her skin tingled from head to toe, and her legs felt slightly rubbery. She dressed leisurely and then sauntered along the beach toward where the Doctor had set up camp. Shaded beneath the enormous umbrella, he sat back in his deck chair with his long legs outstretched before him and his fishing pole dangling loosely from one hand. His hat covered his entire face, and an open volume of Proust lay face-down on his chest.

"Fishing," she murmured under her breath with an amused snort. She'd been in the water for ages and hadn't seen a minnow, much less an actual fish. The Doctor doubtless knew it, too. Her eyes searched the ground around his chair. _Yep. _As she thought, there was no sign of a bucket, a net, or even any bait. 'Fishing' was just an excuse for a quiet afternoon nap by the lake.

Sarah smiled affectionately down at the motionless form of her friend. Once committed, he sure knew how to give a girl a holiday. All of the tension from earlier in the day had passed, washed away by the jade green waters, leaving in its wake a deep and abiding contentment. She felt as though newly born.

Without warning a hand snatched the hat away and the Doctor's eyes snapped open. "Hungry?"

"Famished!" she replied immediately.

In an instant he had unfolded himself and sprung upright. The book disappeared into an enormous pocket. They returned the 'fishing' equipment to the TARDIS, and then he led her into the forest that framed the lake. _If you could call the thick, spiny, gold-and-silver streaked canopy a forest,_ Sarah thought. Still, it was quite beautiful in its alien way.

Without warning the Doctor disappeared into the tall brush that flanked the footpath, only to emerge a moment later holding out two large white-petaled flowers, each with a fruit the size of her fist in the center.

Sarah took one of the proffered flowers gingerly. The fruit, she found, was as light as a feather and slightly warm to the touch. Somewhat disconcertingly, it was bright blue. "What is it?" she asked cautiously.

"N'jarra fruit," he replied. "A delicacy on a hundred worlds. Here." Holding the base of the flower in one hand, the Doctor sharply twisted the blue ball from the stem and, discarding the rest of the flower, bit deeply into the fruit.

"Ahhhh," he said exaggeratedly, and then blinked expectantly at Sarah.

She looked down at her blue fruit. Well, she'd certainly eaten stranger things along their travels. _Here goes nothing_, she thought, and took a determined bite.

Her mouth exploded with sensation. It was like nothing she had tasted before – at once sweet and juicy and tangy and tart and a thousand other tastes she didn't even have the words for. "It's – amazing!" she gasped, taking another mouthful.

The Doctor was watching her reaction with undisguised enthusiasm. "It is, isn't it," he said with a wide grin. "Not too many," he warned. "The nectar can be somewhat intoxicating for species with your physiology."

"Doctor! Are you trying to get me drunk?" Sarah asked with a laugh.

He puffed in mock-indignation. "Never! If I wanted to get you drunk, Sarah Jane, I'd take you to a little cantina I know in the spaceport on Ravinos V."

Biting into another fruit he grinned his toothy grin and they laughed together, blue juice dribbling down their chins.

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Night was falling. The sun was setting set over the trees behind them, darkening the sky, but the air was still pleasantly warm. Sarah stretched luxuriously, immensely happy for the moment not to be freezing cold, or blind, or being chased or shot at.

She'd eaten her fill of the N'jarra fruit, which in truth wasn't that many. They were very filling – a snack of them was like a whole meal of Earth fruit. When she'd mentioned that notion the Doctor launched into a complicated explanation about hemicellulose versus polyamin117 fibers varying the carbohydrate content of the fruit that she tried half-heartedly to follow, but in truth she wasn't ever going to really grasp biology, never mind alien biology.

Instead, she turned her face to the sky, idly wondering what the starscape would look like from this part of the galaxy.

The Doctor followed her gaze. "Should be a spectacular planet-rise tonight," he com-mented. He threw her a wide smile. "Shall we go and see?"

Sarah nodded, unable to resist grinning back.

Throwing his scarf jauntily over his shoulder the Doctor led her deeper into the forest. A breeze was stirring and soft light filtered between the spiky trees, lighting their path. After a few minutes of walking the ground shaded upward as they began to climb.

The path was rougher here, strewn with tree branches and small stones, and soon all of Sarah's attention was directed towards maintaining her balance and not turning an ankle as the light dwindled around them. She envied the Doctor's confident stride. He, of course, had no trouble keeping his footing.

She stumbled a bit, and he reached back and took her hand. She felt disproportionately comforted by the gesture. It seemed to be a sign that, just perhaps, he really might come to recognize and accommodate her human needs.

A moment later they emerged from the trees onto a rocky outcropping that jutted out sharply over the lake. The footpath seemed to abruptly drop away over nothingness, but without hesitating the Doctor strode to the very edge and sat down as nonchalantly as if he was settling down at a dinner table. He looked over his shoulder at Sarah and patted the stone beside him expectantly.

She edged nervously towards him, willing her suddenly shaky legs to move. She'd never really been keen on heights, or drops, or the general threat of falling long distances – as her nearly fatal attempt to cross the footbridge over the chasm back on Kastria had been a sobering reminder. Yet she trusted that the Doctor would never place her in jeopardy. Well, at least not intentionally.

Setting her jaw, Sarah crossed the last few steps and allowed the Doctor to help her into an uneasy sitting position. Maintaining a firm grip on his sleeve, she held her breath and looked down.

Oh, it really was a sheer drop.

Sarah squeezed her eyes shut. Her heart pounded like a piston. _Why had this been a good idea, again_? she asked herself plaintively.

She felt the Doctor nudge her and managed to open her eyes, following the path of his finger where it pointed into the sky.

Suddenly the vertigo vanished as though it had never been.

A yellow-blue planet – the size of Sarah's fist if she held it up before her – was peeking above the far horizon, rings of red and orange asteroids bisecting it like a sash. It rose quickly as they watched, pale and luminescent, lighting the forest in a silvery glow and casting a shimmering reflection on the calm surface of the waters far below.

Sarah was enchanted. It was like a fantasy world, a fairy tale, or perhaps something out of Shakespeare – _yes, that was it_, she decided, _a Midsummer Night's Dream_.

She turned her head to look at the Doctor. She wanted to thank him for this amazing gift but found she lacked the words to express the fullness of all she was feeling. He caught her gaze and smiled a gentle smile, the cool light from the planet illuminating the child-like wonder shining in his brilliant blue eyes.

In amiable silence they sat side-by-side, feet hanging over nothing at all.

The N'jarra nectar must have been intoxicating. How else could she explain it? How else could she explain why one moment she was sitting next to him with her legs dangling over open space, and the next she was nestling into his side, laying her head on his shoulder and threading the fingers of one hand through his. For an instant she felt him stiffen reflexively – then relax, and gently squeeze her fingers.

Sighing contentedly, Sarah looked out into the night. She realized now what she should have known all along. Home wasn't Croydon, or England, or even Earth. It was right here. Wherever he was, was home.

End credits


End file.
